


Piecing You Back Together

by RoamingNymph



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU No Prison, Cutting, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-14 17:31:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18952699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoamingNymph/pseuds/RoamingNymph
Summary: It’s been six months since Ian broke both their hearts when he dumped Mickey and things are only going downhill from there. When he experiences his lowest point yet, Lip calls Mickey to save the day. But maybe they’re really saving each other. Takes place directly after season five, but Mickey never went to prison.





	Piecing You Back Together

**Author's Note:**

> I started watching Shameless about four years ago, but this is the first fic that I've ever finished and I really hope ya'll like it. I have some more fics coming after this one, but I haven't finished them yet. I really enjoyed writing this one and I hope you enjoy reading it.

Ian had been catatonic for two days when Lip caught sight of the slash marks covering his arms. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at them. If Ian had been awake he would have told Lip to mind his own business, but he wasn’t awake, and it wasn’t possible for Lip to mind his own business. Those marks were deliberate, purposeful even. He’d seen them before, on his own thighs, and the sight of them on his little brother’s skin made him want to vomit. Self-loathing curled in his stomach as he sank to the floor. He was well aware that he hadn’t been the most observant brother. Hell, he’d been pretty shitty. But he’d never dreamed that he could miss one of his siblings doing this. 

He stared at Ian for a long time, his heart slamming against his rib cage. There was only one thing he could think of to do but it wasn’t a sure bet. The only person who even had a chance at bringing Ian out of this was Mickey, but Lip wasn’t even sure if Mickey would bother. Ian had broken up with him six months ago. It was a risk Lip would have to take because he couldn’t let this continue. Ian had been on a downward spiral for months, sinking deeper and deeper into depression, and Lip couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled himself to his feet again and kissed Ian’s forehead before making his way out of the bedroom. 

Carl was laying on the couch with his phone hovering over his face when Lip blew past him. He glanced up and raised an eyebrow. “Who lit a fire under your ass?” 

“Go upstairs and sit with Ian. Don’t let him out of the room.” Lip demanded, swinging towards the door. 

“Where are you going?” Carl demanded, standing.

Lip glanced at him. “To find Mickey.” 

He took off after he spoke, giving Carl no time to respond. The last he’d heard Mickey was staying at the Milkovich place again and Lip took off for it at a run. His lungs burned as he continued, but he didn’t let himself stop until he’d come to a stop in front of Mickey’s house. He bent over and caught his breath before stepping up to knock on the door. Mickey raised his eyebrows when he pulled the door open a second later. 

“Fuck do you want?” 

Lip let out a low breath. “Look, you have no reason to give a shit about him but I’m worried about Ian.” 

“And he told you come looking for me?” Mickey asked.

Lip fought the urge to roll his eyes. There was a note of fear in Mickey’s voice that didn’t match the irritation in his expression. He tugged a hand through his hair and closed his eyes before answering.

“He’s been on a downward spiral since he broke up with you, but he crashed two days ago. Hasn’t been out of bed.” He shook his head when Mickey started to speak. “I was checking on him a few minutes ago when I noticed cuts on his arms. It’s… Mickey he cut himself.” 

Mickey closed his eyes. “He’s not going to want to see me.” He countered.

“He didn’t break up with you because he wanted to!” Lip shouted. “He did it because Monica put the idea in his head that you were better off without him. He thought he was holding you back and he’s been fucking miserable since he did it. He’s never been this bad before and we can’t help him.” He closed his eyes again. “I’m not askin’ you to take him back, dude. I just… please. He’s my brother.”

Mickey blinked hard and jerked his head down the street. “Fine. Let’s go.” 

Mickey followed Lip back down the street, his hands balled into white-knuckled fists. They walked in silence until they got back to the Gallagher house. Lip gestured to the room Ian was sleeping in and watched Mickey run towards it, his face expressionless. Carl came down a few minutes later and raised his eyebrows at Lip.

“He woke up when Mickey came in, but he hasn’t said anything. Just stared at him.” Carl said. 

Lip shrugged. “They’ll work it out.” 

**Mickey**

If he’d doubted Lip’s words before, those doubts were gone the second Mickey entered Ian’s bedroom. Ian was curled on his side with the blankets pulled over his shoulders, but there was something in the set of his body that made Mickey ache. He walked to the other side of the bed and knelt down to look into Ian’s face. His eyes were open, staring blankly into space. The blankness cleared as Ian recognized Mickey but the agony that filled them was almost too much to bear. Lip had been right. This was the worst Ian had been yet.

“Fuck did you do to yourself, Ian?” Mickey asked. 

Ian glanced at his arms and tears slid down his face. He didn’t speak, didn’t have the energy, but Mickey didn’t need to hear the apology to know it was there. He lay a hand on Ian’s cheek, thumbing away the tears that continued to fall over his hand. 

“You and I are gonna have a long fuckin’ talk when you come out of this, ight?” Mickey said. “This making my decisions for me shit isn’t gonna happen again.”

Ian nodded, the simple motion exhausting him further. Mickey pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

“For now, I need you to take a bath.” The panic rose in Ian’s eyes and Mickey shook his head. “I’ll help you, okay? But you gotta get clean.” 

More panic rose and Mickey caressed the sweaty cheek. “I’m not mad at you, Firecrotch. I promise, all right? I’ll do all the cleaning and shit, but you need to do it.” 

The fight drained out of him as quickly as it had come, and Mickey lifted Ian into arms with ease. The smell of piss filled his nostrils and he shook his head as shame filled the wide green eyes he loved. He’d have to clean the bed before he let Ian get back in it which was going to be even more of a bitch, but it had to get done. He undressed Ian before looking down at him. 

“I’m gonna set you in the tub while I run the water.” Mickey said.

Ian clung to his arm as he started the bath, the movement seeming to exhaust him further. When the water started, Mickey knelt beside the tub and started washing him. Through it all, Ian kept his hand wrapped around Mickey’s wrist as though he was afraid he’d run away. Mickey didn’t bother pulling his hand away. He could work around the hand easy enough. 

The tears continued to trickle down Ian’s pale cheeks as Mickey washed him. He wiped them away when he’d finished and pulled the taller man to his feet again. Ian shuddered as Mickey pulled a towel around his waist before lifting him into his arms. He stroked his still-wet hair as they entered the bedroom again. 

“I need to put you on Carl’s bed for a few minutes, ight? I just need to change the sheets.” 

Ian swallowed heavily. “Come… come back.” His voice was hoarse and pained but it lit Mickey’s world.

“I’m not leaving again until you kick me out. And even then you gotta have a damn good reason.” 

Ian tried to speak but couldn’t summon the energy. His eyes never left Mickey as he stripped the bed and went through the motions of remaking it. When the bed was ready, Mickey turned back to Ian and was slightly shocked to see that he was still awake. Staring at Mickey like he thought he’d vanish into thin air if he even blinked, but awake.

“Come on, I found some clean clothes.” 

Another long breath. “Can’t do it myself.” Ian whispered. He closed his eyes for a second before looking back at Mickey.

“Good thing I’m here, huh?” 

Ian was mostly silent as Mickey helped him into a new pair of sweats. He shook his head at the shirt Mickey offered and clung to his hand. It took a minute to get him back to bed because Ian insisted on trying to walk, but Mickey kissed the top of his head when he’d got him there. He heard Lip downstairs, arguing with Carl over something, and turned towards the door but he hadn’t gone far when Ian grabbed his hand in a vice-like grip. 

Mickey bent to cup his cheek. “I’m just going to talk to your brother. I’ll be back.” 

Ian bit his lip but nodded. He looked so terrified that Mickey almost didn’t leave. But Lip would want to know what had happened and he wasn’t going to have him popping in unexpectedly. He found Lip in the kitchen, still arguing with Carl.

“I ain’t staying down here all day. He barely let me leave the room in the first fuckin’ place.” Mickey said. He held up a hand to stop Lip’s reply. “I got him to take a bath and managed to change the sheets. He talked a little bit, mostly to beg me to come back.”

Lip sighed. “You talked to him about the marks on his arms?” He asked.

“I ain’t talking to him about shit until he’s strong enough to do it.” Mickey spat. “He can barely fuckin’ keep his eyes open.” He rolled his eyes. “But I’m not leaving him again unless he tells me to.” 

Lip raised his hands. “Nobody’s planning to make you leave.” He said.

Mickey eyed him like he didn’t fully believe him, and Lip rolled his eyes. “I never thought I’d actually have to say this shit, but you’re family. Nobody’s gonna kick you out. Ian would kick our asses if we tried.”

“I’d help.” Carl inserted, grinning when Mickey rolled his eyes. 

“I’m going back upstairs before he tries to follow me down here.” Something creaked above them and Mickey rolled his eyes. “Get back in that bed before I tie you to it, Gallagher!” He yelled before turning back to Lip and Carl. “He’ll need food at some point, but nothing too solid. Soup or some shit. Anything else and he’ll throw it right back up.” 

Lip nodded. “I think we have a can of chicken something in the cupboard. I’ll heat it up in a few hours. Sounds like he’s getting ready for that talk, though.” He looked at the ceiling and Mickey groaned as he heard the telltale sounds of Ian talking to himself.

Mickey huffed, realizing that Lip was most likely right. “I’m going back upstairs.” 

He turned and did just that, leaving Carl and Lip alone in the kitchen. Ian was sitting up by the time he got back to the bedroom. He still looked weak and pale, but the blankness was gone from his eyes. He looked up at Mickey and then quickly averted his gaze. 

“You… uh… you don’t have to stay.” He said when Mickey had shut the door behind him.

Mickey raised an eyebrow. “Is that your way of telling me to get out? Because that’s the only way you’re getting me to leave.’ 

“I don’t want you to leave.” Ian shoved his hands through his hair and pulled on it. “I just… I don’t want to hold you back anymore. This fucking disease isn’t going anywhere and I… you shouldn’t have to be my fucking caretaker.” The desperation in his voice made Mickey’s chest ache.

Mickey sat next to him and pulled him close. The ache in his chest eased at the weight of Ian in his arms. “Did you ever stop and think that maybe I want to? I love you, Ian. That means I want to take care of you. It means being there all the time. Shit man, how could you ever think I didn’t want to be here?” 

“I can’t control this. Even with meds… it could still happen.” Ian whispered, his voice thick. “And I hurt you. I’ll get manic and do something else that’s stupid or I’ll get so fucking low that I can’t even get out of bed to piss and you’ll have to clean my piss because I can’t even do that!” He broke off with a frustrated sob.

Mickey ran his fingers through the soft hair at the nape of Ian’s neck. “We’ll deal with the manic shit as it happens, okay? The shit you do when you’re manic isn’t you, it’s the disease. I know you’d never do that shit normally.” He pressed a kiss to the skin just below Ian’s ear and tugged him closer. “And I don’t care if I have to clean your piss. Again, it’s the disease that does it. Not you. I love you, Ian. You aren’t holding me back.” 

Ian released a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry. Fuck, Mick… I’m so sorry.” He leaned against Mickey’s shoulder, another tear escaping. “I keep fucking up and I don’t… I don’t know how to stop.” 

“Stop apologizing. We’re okay. I’m not mad at you.” Mickey said. He pressed a kiss to the top of Ian’s head and looked down at him. “You still look pretty exhausted.” 

“I feel wrecked.” Ian admitted. “This wasn’t… I didn’t crash because of the bi-polar. It was just me. I think I just triggered it when I made you leave.” 

“Let’s lay down then. I haven’t slept in… fuck. I don’t even know anymore.” Mickey sighed. “We’ll have to talk about what you did to your arm soon, but I don’t think it’s a good idea right now.” 

Ian sighed and lay down. Mickey positioned them so that Ian’s head was resting on his chest. He scratched Ian’s scalp lightly as the redhead lay in silence. 

“We can talk about it.” Ian whispered. “I don’t think I’ll be able to rest until you’ve yelled at me.” 

Self-hatred was something that Mickey was well acquainted with. He’d hated himself for as long as he could remember, but the one thing he couldn’t get out of his own head was how badly he’d treated Ian in the past. The fact that Ian thought he was capable of yelling at him for something like this made him want to punch himself. 

“I’m not going to yell at you.” He whispered against Ian’s hair. “Just… can I see it?” 

Ian trembled as he lifted his arms for Mickey to inspect. Each arm was lined with cuts of varying depths and length. It made Mickey feel sort of sick to look at it and he found himself brushing a gentle hand over the cuts. He could feel Ian’s eyes on him, but it wasn’t until a hand touched his cheek that he realized he was crying. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmured. “I don’t even know what happened.” 

Mickey shook his head. “I get it.” 

He took a deep breath and Ian watched him intently as he pulled himself together. He’d never trusted someone enough to tell them this kind of secret, but it was the right thing to do. His hands shook as he pulled off his pants. Ian’s breath caught as he stared at the scars marring the otherwise smooth skin of Mickey’s legs.

“I never…” 

Mickey sighed. “I used a lighter. Started when I was eight. Maybe nine.” He caught Ian’s hand and squeezed it. “It wasn’t something I ever talked about but…” 

“How did I never notice?” Ian asked.

“I’m good at distracting you.” Mickey reached over and stroked Ian’s cheek. “You don’t need to tell me why or try and explain, okay? I get it. Just… do something for me, yeah?” 

Ian hummed, leaning into Mickey’s hand. 

“Talk to someone if you ever want to do that again. Doesn’t even have to be me. I just… talk to someone, okay?” 

“It’ll be you.” Ian murmured. He yawned and his eyes drooped.

Mickey tugged them both down and curled around Ian protectively. 

“I love you.” Ian whispered, pressing a kiss to his throat.

Mickey smoothed back his hair and kissed him on the forehead. “Love you too, Firecrotch.” He said.

He couldn’t fall asleep for a long time after Ian’s breathing evened out, so he sat up and watched Ian sleep. His eyes moved to the cuts on Ian’s arms again and he swallowed back bile. It made Mickey ache to see them, to know that he’d felt that much pain. His tucked his face into the curve of Ian’s neck and tried to breathe through the wave of self-loathing that was slowly threatening to choke the life out of him. Ian tightened the arm thrown around his waist, still mostly asleep but awake enough to feel Mickey shaking slightly. Sleep fell over them like a blanket only a heartbeat later and Mickey’s last conscious thought was that he’d never let this happen again. Not to Ian.


End file.
